


Behind the Lens

by slyferris (Ethsei)



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Photographer, Angst, Codependency, Dark, Drug Addiction, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 22:56:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2558786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethsei/pseuds/slyferris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yunho gets in an accident when he’s twenty-four. Changmin's always hated Bentleys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind the Lens

 

 

Changmin’s in the business of catching beauty in a four by four frame.

Yunho is his favourite.

Beautiful, fucked up Yunho.

Yunho who pulls his ponytail when they fuck.

Yunho who leaves the caps off the toothpaste.

Yunho who walks in the house with his shoes on.

Yunho who pops so many pills he loses count and stumbles home a day later, clothes ripped and pupils blown.

Yunho who can count every rib when he inhales the smoke from his cigarette.

Beautiful, beautiful Yunho who’s crumbling in front of the lens so fast Changmin thinks it might crack.

Yunho is a tragedy.

He’s the best thing Changmin’s captured by far.

 

 

“The rent’s late, baby,” Changmin says.

It’s afternoon and the sun is beating hot through the window, bearing down on the living room where Yunho sits curled in a ball. He smiles all teeth and shining eyes. “When is it not? You know taking pictures for a living doesn’t pay.”

Changmin sighs and takes a seat on the questionably stained carpet beside Yunho. He runs his hand through the older man’s hair, and Yunho mewls and leans into Changmin, body sharp against Changmin’s built muscles. The feel of his bones sends stings all throughout Changmin’s chest.

“Did you think about what I asked you?”

Yunho stiffens.  

Changmin pulls him closer and rakes his fingernails through his scalp to keep him calm. “I know, baby, I know. I’m not asking you to give it up, I just…” Changmin trails off and breathes in deep. “You know I love you, and I just don’t want to see you hurt. Again.”

Yunho breathes out shakily. “I’m gonna get some smokes from the store.”

Changmin catches his hand as Yunho stands. “We really need the money. _Please,_ I don’t want to be kicked out again.”

Changmin spends the whole night crying, because of course Yunho doesn’t come back.

 

 

He remembers when they met at his friend Heechul's party.

It was all cliché and Changmin felt like he couldn’t breathe when he looked into Yunho’s eyes.

He charmed him instantly with his confident gait and blinding smile. Changmin’s fingers had never itched for a camera more than they had the first time he laid eyes on him.

It was love at first sight, and Yunho had said he decided to take Changmin home that night.

Yunho always had the final say between them.  

Changmin faded.

 

 

Yunho scrapes Changmin’s hair into a ponytail. “All right?”

“Yeah, good, thanks.” Changmin lifts himself off Yunho’s lap and pushes him to lie down onto the ratty couch.

“Smoke,” Changmin demands. “It looks best when you smoke.”

Yunho laughs. “Are you trying to ruin my lungs?”

“You do a very good job of that all on your own, you dork.” Changmin pulls the camera from around his neck and squints. He fusses with the curtains until the light is just right, filtering through a small gap and filling the left half of Yunho with light.  

Changmin instructs Yunho to turn and arch to the right spots as he clicks away, admittedly taking more photos than is really necessary.

But he can’t help it that Yunho is his favourite subject.

Changmin has taken upwards of a hundred photos when he frowns and stops. Yunho is wearing a plain white shirt and black jeans, and it doesn’t sit well with Changmin.

“Take off your shirt.”

Yunho smirks and wiggles his eyebrows. “Kinky.”

“It’s called _art_ ,” he deadpans. “Now take it off.”

Yunho complies, innocent smile turned all smug and asking. His torso is long, muscled, and tanned, and Changmin loses control within an instant. He orders Yunho to lie on his stomach. The sun is highlighting the contours of his back muscles, and Changmin gets hard so quickly it would be embarrassing, except he knows Yunho is too. He’s staring into the lens with hungry, challenging eyes, and Changmin is lured in.

Yunho’s cigarette burns out and he doesn’t pull out another.

Changmin gets closer and snaps more photos until he’s right up in Yunho’s face and Yunho whispers “should I take off my pants, too? For art’s sake?”  

Yunho doesn’t have to ask twice because Changmin’s already pushing him on his back, hands unbuttoning his jeans and yanking them off. He settles between Yunho’s legs and stares. He grips the inside of Yunho’s thigh with his left hand and lifts the camera with his right. He palms Yunho’s crotch and makes him moan.

Changmin fucks him slow and captures it frame by frame. Yunho’s back is arched against the couch and his face is flushed, hair sweaty. He’s dazed and his mouth hangs open, and Changmin thinks he loves Yunho the most when he looks like this.  

 

 

It hurts Changmin because he knows it wasn’t always like this.

It used to be lazy afternoon sex and burnt dinners (courtesy of Yunho).

The way they fuck now is rough and desperate, and more often than not Yunho is high. They don’t really have the money for home cooked dinners now.  

Changmin thinks that a lot of this is probably his fault. It’s not as if he caused Yunho to start using, but he never did a thing to stop it. _‘It’s okay, Yunho,’_ he’d say when the older man stumbled in at three in the morning looking deranged and jittery. He never said a word against him out of fear—not of Yunho hurting him, but of Yunho leaving. Changmin was now so wrapped up in Yunho he couldn’t imagine a day where they would split. It sent him into panic attacks just thinking about it, and Yunho had to hug him through it and whisper into his ear that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Changmin hates it, but it is what it is, he thinks.

 

 

Yunho gets in an accident when he’s twenty-four. A silver Bentley runs a red light and smashes the bonnet of Yunho’s car. He rips the ligaments around his knee and is in so much pain that he can’t walk for a month. He’s lost the moment the pain pills touch his tongue.

Changmin’s always hated Bentley’s.

 

 

Changmin doesn’t answer his phone much these days. He’d much rather bask in the warmth Yunho brings and engulfs him in. He feels safe with Yunho, like he’s in a bubble that no one else can come near or touch.

He doesn’t talk to Kyuhyun a lot now, and it’s not for Kyuhyun’s lack of trying. Whenever Changmin turns his phone on he’s always left with a slew of missed texts and calls asking him where he’s been, and if he’s okay, and can they hang out and talk about this?

Yunho used to come with him to meet Kyuhyun and his friends, but they and Yunho didn’t see eye to eye and it usually left the whole outing an awkward mess, so Changmin stopped bringing him and then eventually stopped going himself.

Changmin misses his best friend, so he agrees to meet Kyuhyun. Yunho sulks on the couch when Changmin slips on his shoes, and Changmin walks through the house with his shoes still on to kiss him slow and soft.

“Remember to text me. Let me know that you’re all right.” Yunho’s fiddling with the hem of his shirt, and nibbling his bottom lip red and sore.

Changmin strokes his hand through Yunho’s hair. “I’ll be fine _,_ don’t worry.”

“It’s not _you_ I’m worried about. It’s everyone else. I mean just look at you.”

Changmin blushes and leans down for one more kiss before he leaves, words thick and promising, “flattery will get you everywhere.”

Yunho follows him to the door like a lost puppy and it hurts Changmin’s heart to close the door.

 

 

Kyuhyun has invited him and a few other close friends to a lively bar with too loud music and suffocating smoke that reminds him of Yunho. It starts off well. They settle in corner couch and he talks and laughs along but his cheeks ache with the effort. It gets too much, and Yunho isn’t _here,_ and Changmin feels exposed and raw. He texts Yunho every few minutes, sending and also asking for reassurance. Changmin can feel his friend’s eyes on him throughout the night.

The last few times they’d met up they’d tried to talk to him about Yunho. They said that Yunho wasn’t good for him, and that he was locking him away. That he stopped existing as himself when Yunho came along. Of course, Changmin was having none of it. Because no one makes Changmin feel the way he does. It was the power of love, and he pitied his friends for not understanding the force of it.

Kyuhyun throws himself in the empty space next to Changmin, throwing his arm around Changmin’s shoulder and trying to jostle some life into the man.

His breath smells of whiskey and mint.

Kyuhyun eyes the phone in Changmin’s hand, and Changmin switches the screen off. Kyuhyun evidently decides to ignore the action and smiles at his friend.

“You’re not drinking? What happened to ten-shots-in-one-hour Changmin?” Kyuhyun pauses and laughs. “I guess you did throw up, but in my defence it _was_ pretty funny. I would totally pay for half to watch it happen again.”

Changmin smiles, stiff. “Yunho doesn’t really like it when I drink.”

Kyuhyun scoffs and pulls his arm away. “Yeah. That’s rich coming from _him.”_

“What does that mean?” Changmin asks, eyes narrowed.

Kyuhyun purses his lips and gives Changmin a long, searching look. He breaths out, long and heavy. “Oh come on, Changmin. It’s not that hard to figure out your boyfriend’s popping pills.”

“It’s none of your concern,” Changmin hisses. Kyuhyun is his best friend, but Yunho is _all his._  

“It _is_ my concern, though!” Kyuhyun half yells, looking around to see if he’d garnered any attention then slinking back down into the cushion and wiping at the corners of his mouth with his fingers. “Look, I’m just saying that I think you guys should, I don’t know, find some hobbies outside of each other. And,” he says, raising placating hands, “I’m not saying it’s his fault. Or yours. I’m _just saying_.”

Changmin raises his shoulders, ready to argue until his throat goes dry. “ _Watch it._ You’re my best friend Kyuhyun, and I don’t want to spend my one night out arguing over Yunho, all right?”  

Kyuhyun purses his lips and looks away, giving the argument up when he sees their friends approaching. “Fine. Whatever.”

His phone dings and Kyuhyun sighs under his breath when he hurries to answer the message.

_-Are u coming home soon?_

_-As quick as I can baby. I miss you..._

When Changmin looks up from his phone, he sees Heechul slide next to himself, and he pinches the younger’s cheek.  

Changmin squirms away, grumpy from his previous conversation. He wishes Kyuhyun would stop butting out when it came to his and Yunho’s relationship.

“Stop being such a bitch and come dance with us,” Heechul grins. He’s got a loud, rude mouth and the kind of personality that can drive you up the wall, but Changmin’s still particularly fond of him. However, right now he doesn’t feel like dealing with the red head. His nerves are frayed and hanging over the edge, and he needs Yunho but he’s not _here._

“I’m good. Not really in the mood to dance.”

Heechul rolls his eyes and puts his hand over Changmin’s phone. “That’s because you’ve been stuck on your phone the whole night.”

Before Changmin can react, Heechul’s yanked the device out of his hand and pocketed it, dancing away and yelling taunts as he dissolves into the crowded dance floor. Changmin’s heart rate skyrockets and he can’t breathe. His hands are shaking and aching to get a hold of the only connection he has to Yunho right now, but he tries to stay calm and quell the anger bubbling at the bottom of his stomach.

He forces a smile and pulls Kyuhyun up to dance with him, needing a distraction. Maybe if he did this, Kyuhyun would get off his back and see that Changmin is _fine_ and doesn’t need Yunho like he needs the air in his lungs and the blood in his veins.

 

 

Changmin lasts ten minutes before breaking.

Kyuhyun’s yelling something in his ear he can’t understand over the rumble of the bass and Changmin chokes.

He tries to take a breath in but he gags and coughs. His body seizes and his blood runs cold.

He knows he’s having a panic attack—he used to get them in high school during exams—but it does nothing to lessen the fear gripping every inch of his mind. He clenches onto Kyuhyun’s shirt and stares at him with wide eyes, trying to convey that he needs to get out _right now._

Kyuhyun gets the message pretty quickly and wraps his arm around Changmin’s shoulder, dragging him outside while yelling, “hey, are you okay?! What’s wrong—oh my god!”

The wind startles him into consciousness somewhat, and he can breathe now but it’s coming in small, harsh drags, cold air burning the length of his throat and lungs as it’s ripped in and out.

“My phone,” he croaks. “Heechul.”

Kyuhyun bites his lips and looks between the entrance of the club and his friend, not knowing if he should leave him alone. Changmin coughs hard and tears spill over his cheeks. He points the door with as much urgency as he can muster, and Kyuhyun runs.

He comes back in record time and Changmin holds down one on speed dial.

Yunho picks up on the second ring.

Changmin starts to speak before he can even get a word in. “Come pick me up.”

He gives Yunho the address through his tear thickened throat and feels the panic seep out inch by inch just from hearing Yunho’s voice. They stay on the phone as Yunho drives and Changmin feels whole again. The hands rubbing his back and shoulders do nothing to comfort him.

Changmin glares up at Kyuhyun and Heechul when Yunho arrives and snaps, “don’t take my phone away from me.”

The two are stunned into silence and watch with closed mouths and wide eyes as Yunho whisks Changmin away.

 

Changmin thinks… he thinks he might have a problem.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The first time Changmin hits Yunho is when they’re mid-fuck and Yunho’s babbling all sorts of nonsense and his pupils are so blown, heart so fast, Changmin is scared he might keel over at any moment.

Yunho starts to dribble and speak in mumbles, so Changmin slaps him around the face to keep him awake. He thrusts twice as hard and rakes his fingernails down the older man’s chest. Blood bubbles up on a particularly hard scratch, and he’s is scared he’s gone too far but then Yunho whines and bucks up, coming with a loud moan.

It becomes a regular occurrence. And not just because Yunho is on the edge of overdosing.

 Yunho is filled with bruises and scars, and all Changmin can think when he looks are them is ‘ _mine’_. He scratches the word into Yunho’s back, and as the older arches into the pain, Changmin feels complete.

 

 

When Yunho doesn’t come home for fifty-six hours and twenty-something minutes, Changmin realises the problem is bigger than he ever thought.

And this time it’s got nothing to do with Yunho’s pill popping and all to do with Changmin’s own addiction.

When Changmin was fifteen he once ran away in a burst of teenage rebellion. He was gone for two days, sleeping on park benches and forking over his pitifully small change for food. He slinked home when he ran out of money, embarrassed.

 

His mother had called him eleven times.

 

Changmin calls Yunho forty-five times.

 

It isn’t unusual for Yunho to disappear for hours on end, but never for this long, never without texting Changmin.

Rationally, Changmin knows that Yunho is mostly likely on a drug bender, like always, and he’ll be back the next morning with a grin too wide to be drug free.

But rationality never played a part in his anxiety.

 

It tears him from the inside out and stabs his stomach and heart like a knife, and his blood’s running out and he thinks he’ll _die_ soon if he can’t make it stop.

It’s not even within the realms of bearable.

 

 

He falls apart at the thirty hour mark.

 

He calls the only person he can think of through his panicked state of mind.

 Kyuhyun bursts through the door within ten minutes, which Changmin would normally find impressive since the usual drive is almost twice as long, but there’s nothing normal about this situation.

 Changmin can’t think properly through his tears, anyway.

 

 Kyuhyun runs his hands through his friend’s hair, bringing him tea to soothe. It helps, but not enough to quell the fear.

“Changmin,” Kyuhyun whisperers in his ear, soft and reassuring. He has his arm around Changmin’s shoulders and is rocking him back and forth at a steady pace. “I think… I think you need to talk to someone.”

“That’s what I called you for,” he grits. He can’t focus on Kyuhyun’s words when he’s trying so hard not to hyperventilate.

Kyuhyun lets out a long breath and it tickles Changmin’s cheek. He rubs his shoulders on the back of the couch and his words are slow and cautious. “I don’t mean _me._ I think you should speak to someone, you know, who’s trained in these things. Like a doctor—“

“Like a _psychiatrist?”_ Changmin bites. His rocking turns jerky. “Are you trying to call me crazy?”

“I just think—“

“I think if you’re going to keep talking, you can leave.” Changmin knows he’s being unfair. He knows today is a Monday and Kyuhyun was supposed to start work two hours ago and he’s probably late on the rent, because he always is, yet he rushed here to Changmin’s side. Now he’s trying to push him away for helping. His stomach shrinks in on itself and he wishes he could be anyone but himself.

 

It’s been fifty-six hours, and Changmin hasn’t slept for any of them. He and Kyuhyun are watching some Disney film that neither are really paying attention to. The clock’s ticking just passed two and Kyuhyun’s yawning when the front door clicks open.

Changmin’s heart jumps right from his chest and is pulling him forward before he even has time to think about it.

Yunho’s at the door and slipping off his mud stained shoes. His hair’s a mess, and his eyes are red and puffy, but Changmin doesn’t care because at least he’s _here._

Changmin jumps right into Yunho’s arms and wraps his legs around the older man’s waist. Yunho stumbles but manages to catch him, digging his nose into Changmin’s hair and pressing small kisses wherever he can.

Yunho hugs him so tight he can’t breathe, but his lungs feel fuller than they have in days and he’s whole again.

Yunho is so drugged up he looks like he doesn’t even know what day it is, but Changmin kisses him long and hard, more tongue than lip. Filled with desperation, not love.

Yunho wraps his hands under Changmin’s thighs to hoist him up and stumbles into the house, knocking Changmin into the wall and leaving him breathless. They don’t break the kiss.

Changmin digs his fingernails into the back of Yunho’s neck because he’s both pissed off and terrified, and his body is coursing with so many mixed emotions he feels like he’s going to scream.

Yunho always feels a step too far away; it's like he’s running for the finish line and no matter how hard he runs and how painfully every inch of him burns he can’t reach. So he holds on with everything he can.

Changmin commands Yunho to put him down and spins them around, slamming him into the wall. He grinds his crotch on Yunho’s and mouths at his neck.

 

 

Yunho moans so loud that Changmin doesn’t even hear the front door slam shut.

 

 

When they’ve fallen into bed and Changmin’s clutching onto a slightly more sober Yunho, he thinks he understands now that maybe what they have isn’t love. Maybe this wasn’t what love was supposed to feel like. Changmin bites his lip hard to punish himself silently. The blood tastes bitter on his tongue. Instead of pausing to ask Yunho how he was, he fucked him against the wall and then into their mattress, consumed only with his own thoughts and feelings. Wasn’t love supposed to be selfless?

But Yunho had been his first in everything since he was seventeen years old, so really, what the fuck does Changmin know about love?

 

 

Changmin watches Yunho from afar these days and thinks.

The pieces of his puzzle are being ripped at the edges, and he’s not able to see what fits where anymore.

Changmin takes as many photos as his camera will allow. He feels like the story behind the lens isn’t one he’ll be able to read to the end.

He develops the pictures and hides them in a shoebox in his pants drawer. The photos he takes are domestic and plain. Photos of Yunho watching T.V, of him folding the laundry, washing the dishes, stretching in the morning, all the normal things. He stares at them when Yunho’s gone.

The pictures feel achingly far away.

 

 

The idea burrows in his brain like a bug, and Changmin itches and scratches, yanking at his hair to make it disappear, but it keeps digging deeper and Changmin can’t reach to pull it anymore.

He stops trying to fight it and instead tries to figure it out. What’s between him and Yunho, it isn’t right. On some deeper level, Changmin thinks he’s always known. He decides to test himself and he leaves home. He lasts eight hours before the world shines too bright and birds sing too loud and he needs to curl back in his bubble.

But it’s progress-- though he’s not even sure it’s a step he wants to be making.

 

 

He remembers the first time Yunho said he loved him. He was eighteen, Yunho was twenty. The park was damp and hot and they had found refuge under a tree. Sunlight bounced through the leaves and hit them in the eyes if they didn’t sit just right.

 

_“Let’s take a self-portrait,” Changmin says, taking out his small digital camera._

 

_Yunho laughs. “It’s called a selfie, you pretentious dick. I swear to god, this is what I get for dating a photographer.”_

 

_Changmin rolls his eyes. “You have no class, you know that? And you know you like it, so shut up.”_

 

_Changmin holds the camera with a slightly shaky arm and squints through tears as the sun blinds him. Yunho puts his arm around Changmin’s shoulder and pulls him so close their hips are touching._

 

_Changmin warms._

 

_“Okay, ready?” Changmin breathes in, steadying his arm._

 

_“Hey, Changmin,” Yunho whispers through his teeth._

 

_“Keep smiling,” Changmin speaks through his painted grin, focusing on finding the capture button._

 

_“I love you.”_

 

_Changmin starts and looks at Yunho with wide eyes, face colouring and heart soaring higher than he ever imagined possible. Yunho’s still looking at the camera, and his grin is wide and genuine, all teeth and smiley eyes._

 

_The camera goes off on accident and Changmin spends the next hour kissing Yunho and sharing ‘I love you’s’._

 

Changmin thinks maybe he really did love Yunho back then.

 

Yeah, back then, that _was_ love.

 

 

 

Changmin drags Yunho out with him a few days later, and Yunho isn’t sober, _again._

 

He doesn’t think Yunho has been sober in weeks.

 

The night’s clear and silent, and white wisps escape from his lips. The sidewalk is like ice beneath his bare feet, and it sends tingles of life through his body. Changmin avoids the cracks and stares at the stars. They seem to shine brighter than usual.

Yunho smokes and trails behind him, humming this repetitive tune that sets his nerves on edge. Changmin watches him swallow one of the blue pills, the calming ones, out of the corner of his eye.

 

He says nothing.

 

Changmin sees a silver Bentley, like that one from that night, and kicks the tire. It’s all very satisfying but now Changmin’s got a limp and a purple toe. Yunho has to carry him to the park and up the grass hill until they’re settled on the damp, squishy ground.

 He points at the stars. “They’re beautiful, right?” He wonders what they look like in Yunho’s addled brain.

 He grins and leans in for a kiss. “You’re more.” He tugs the end of Changmin’s ponytail.

 Changmin doesn’t smile back, but he kisses Yunho soft and sweet. He lies on his back and connects the constellations with his finger.  

 Changmin clenches his fist. “Yunho?" 

 Yunho’s sitting curled forward, and Changmin can count the vertebrae on his back one by one. “Mm?”

 “What would you choose?” he stops and burns his lungs with a deep breath. “I mean, if it were between me and the pills.”

 Yunho frowns and shifts forward, wrapping his arms around his legs.

 “If I asked you to give it up, would you?”

 Yunho stays silent.

 “I’m serious,” Changmin croaks. He’s a moment away from crying but he holds it in because he needs to be strong. He needs to hear what Yunho has to say, so he can’t break now. Not yet.

 Yunho laughs, and it’s so out of place and hollow that it destroys something in Changmin. “Of course I’d choose you.”

 “I just want—I want you to—just for one night, okay? Then we can make it two, okay? We can try. We can get you better and it’ll be like before, right baby?”

 Yunho licks his lips and the breeze pushes his hair into his eyes. “Yeah.”

 

 

 

Yunho disappears the next night with a bottle of pills zipped in his pocket.

 

Changmin wants to cry, but he doesn’t.

 

He doesn’t want to cry because of Yunho anymore.

 

He does the next best thing and kicks their dresser, the photo frames and colognes smashing and tumbling to the carpeted floor. He pulls out the drawers and throws everything he can get his hands on around the room and into walls. He screams until they turn into sobs and he collapses in on himself.

His legs have long since given out and he stares at the floor, chest heaving and tears spilling.   

 There’s a photo frame still whole toppled beside his knee and his picks it up.

 Changmin holds it and rubs his thumbs over the glass. He remembers the day they took this. It was three months before the accident and the pills, and Yunho’s smile is warm and easy. He’s sitting on a swing set and the tip of his tongue is poking between his teeth.

 

 

_“So, Mr. famous photographer, what are your plans for the future?”_

 

_“Oh shut up, that’s embarrassing. It’s just an acceptance letter. I’m not even sure I want to accept it—the school’s all the way in Seoul, and it wasn’t like my portfolio was stunning, so I won’t get a scholarship or anything.”_

 

_“Hey.” Yunho turns serious. “Don’t sell yourself short.” His grin’s back as fast as it melted away. “I, for one, thought it was beautiful. I think maybe we should get it blown up and hung in my bedroom.” Yunho leans back on the swing and sucks his teeth. “You know, now that you’re famous and all, and assuming you’re going to Seoul, you’re going to need to spend more money on better quality equipment, right?”_

 

_“Right,” Changmin says slowly._

 

_“And Seoul’s far away. And expensive.”_

 

_“It is.”_

 

_“And you know I’ve been looking for a new job. And I’ve got savings.”_

 

_Changmin pauses. “… Did you just very poorly ask me to move in with you?”_

 

_Yunho smiles, coy and cheeky. “Are you going to say yes?”_

 

_Changmin takes a photo._

 

 

The glass cracks under his thumb.

 

Changmin just wants to know why he’s never been as important as the drugs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Changmin sifts through the mess and finds what’s his. He packs his favourite clothes and possessions into a duffel bag and calls Kyuhyun to pick it up for him. He smiles at Kyuhyun when he arrives and says he’ll be at his later, because he has to say goodbye first.

 

It all feels very anti-climactic and surreal.

 

He turns on the T.V and keeps one eye on the clock. The hours tick by, and he doesn’t know what he feels. He supposes he should cry, but everything in him feels dried out. All he can do is wait with baited breath.

 

 

 

When Yunho comes home, Changmin’s at the door in an instant and is kissing him slowly, pushing his tongue in and tastes the cigarettes.

 The kiss turns heated and soon they’re both hard and rocking against each other .Yunho starts pulling him towards their room, and Changmin holds him still.

 “No,” Changmin pants, “I want to fuck you on the couch.”

 

Yunho shudders beneath him and groans in agreement. Changmin kisses Yunho so thoroughly that he doesn’t even think to look around the room and see everything that’s missing. He pushes Yunho’s back onto the couch and crawls atop of him, straddling his waist.  

He’s sucking little bruises into Yunho’s neck that’s got him panting out, “God, Changmin, hurry up.”

He undresses Yunho than himself, pulling lube out of his back pocket.

Yunho laughs and teases, “someone’s eager.”

Changmin shuts him up by pushing a finger in.

 

Yunho isn’t laughing anymore.

 

He adds another, and pulls his fingers out, slicking up his dick and thrusting it in. Yunho’s toes curl and he cries out Changmin’s name. Changmin takes it slow, so unlike how they usually fuck. He pushes his body right up against Yunho’s because he needs to feel every inch of him and engrain it into his memory.

Yunho lolls his head to the side and Changmin holds it straight. “Keep your eyes on me, baby.” He puts their forehead together and watches from up close how Yunho bites his lip and moans with every thrust that hits his prostate.

 

He feels the guilt painted on him in large red letters as Yunho looks up at him with eyes that almost seem to say he trusts Changmin with his life.

 

Changmin comes first, and Yunho follow soon after with a loud moan, throwing his head back and closing his eyes.

He tells Yunho to stay where he is and to close his eyes. He takes his camera from the table and holds it in. He holds everything in and crawls back over Yunho, because this is how he loves him and how he wants to remember him, and takes one final photo.

 Yunho’s got new cigarette burns on his arms and Changmin tells Yunho he’s beautiful, but it’s a lie.

 

There’s nothing beautiful about death.

 

“Lie on your stomach.”

 Yunho complies easily and looks at him over his shoulder with glazed eyes and an easy smile. “One more round?”

 Changmin gives him one last smile as warm as ice. “No. Put your head down.”

 Yunho buries his face into the cushion and groans in complaint.

 Changmin scratches ‘sorry’ into Yunho’s back, and he gets up and pulls on his clothes hurriedly, facing away from the older. He doesn’t want to see the look of confusion on his face when he processes the words. He doesn’t want the last image he has of Yunho to be a painful one. He wants to remember him like he does his last photo, with glazed eyes and flushed cheeks.

 

He wants to remember the Yunho he loved.  

 

Changmin doesn’t stop when he hears Yunho call his name out in confusion. He slips on his shoes and clicks the door shut. The sound rushes through his body, and he runs.

 

 

 

He runs until he’s lost and alone and the wind is biting his skin. He feels like he’s been woken from a bad dream.

 

He unclips the key from his chain and dumps it in a trash can.

 

It hurts less than he expected.

 

Changmin stares at the stars and walks and walks until his legs ache and he doesn’t feel like crying so much anymore.

 

The stars burn with a certainty he and Yunho once owned. But even the brightest stars burn out, and the sun freezes, and the universe will slow to a stop.

 

It didn’t turn out okay.

 

 

Changmin thinks that maybe it was never supposed to.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> birthday fic for Janie :D


End file.
